History Repeats Itself
by Stace88
Summary: Don and Terry relive their first date. I think that's sufficient enough for a summary. Oneshot that will remain a oneshot forever...or at least until I have other things finished.


I _swear_ I'm working on the other two fics, but I just had to write this one. It, unlike Celebration Dinner, is going to remain a oneshot, because I just don't have the time to finish it. I have university auditions to prep for, as well as our local music festival that I'm competing in and assisting at. I've also got loads of math homework, which I loathe with a passion. It's a wonder I watch Numb3rs since I hate math so much. Must be the story lines.

Pairing: Don/Terry

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I own tapes of this show...and that's it! I am a poor student who is trying to save up her money so she can afford both the Season 1 DVDs and university expenses next year. I just can't help it, I love this show! This brilliant show that is owned by CBS, Cheryl, and Nicholas.

Description: We all know that Don and Terry's first date at Quantico took place at a laundromat where they ate pizza, correct? Well, what if they relived it during the first season when Terry was still there? This is my take on that.

* * *

Special Agent Don Eppes frowned at the state of his bedroom closet. It seemed as though all the clothes he owned were lying in a heap on the floor, obviously unclean and smelling pretty nasty. He'd been busy with several cases, and hadn't had time to do laundry. His partner, Special Agent Terry Lake, had offered to do his with hers that night, but Don had told her that it was fine, and he had enough clothes to last him for a little while.

Obviously, he was wrong.

Don began grabbing clothes and dumping them unceremoniously onto his bed. The mound of shirts, pants, and boxers grew taller and taller by the minute, until at last it all fell over and back onto the floor. As he bent down to pick it all up again, Don noticed one of the pictures on his bedside table. It was one of him and Terry when they were at Quantico. They had just started dating, and were walking through the town in the early evening, once classes were finished. Don had whipped out a camera and snapped a candid picture of Terry, her hair blown back a bit by the slight wind and her cheeks rosy from the slight chill in the air.

While most times Don enjoyed looking at the picture to remember those happy times, now Terry's youthful face just seemed to be mocking him. It seemed as though she was laughing at him for being stupid enough not to accept her very generous cleaning offer.

"Oh, shut up you," Don muttered as he threw a few lonely socks onto his bed. He froze for a moment, realizing that he'd just spoken to his partner's picture.

"I'm losing it," he muttered, shaking his head and searching around the room for more dirty clothes.

Once Don was satisfied that he'd retrieved all that he could, he grabbed an old duffel bag from the back of his closet and shoved all of the clothes into it. He'd learned how to make almost his entire wardrobe fit into a tiny bag during his stint in Fugitive Recovery, where he could have been gone for days at a time without being able to get anything from his apartment.

Don slung the bag of laundry onto his shoulder and headed for the front door, grabbing his keys, badge, and gun on his way out. One could never be too careful, even when heading somewhere as deceivingly peaceful as a laundromat.

Just three blocks away, Terry Lake was singing along to the song playing over the speaker system in the laundromat. She had devoted her entire evening to doing all of the laundry she'd missed out on during the past few weeks. Her caseload had kept her at the office until the wee hours of the morning, and even then she sometimes crashed in one of the interrogation rooms. The previous night, in fact, had found her and Don, her partner and longtime friend, asleep on couches in the coffee room.

Terry's stomach rumbled slightly, reminding her of the fact that she had once again forgotten to grab something to eat from her apartment before she'd headed to the laundromat. She ignored it, as she did most nights, and mentally promised herself that she would get something on the way home. More than likely, however, she would completely forget and go to bed starving as soon as she got home.

One of the washing machines buzzed, signaling that it was finished with her load of clothes. Terry walked over and began dragging clothes out. She opened a dryer across the way and started throwing clothes in its direction. Terry managed to get the majority of them in, but dropped a few socks in her feeble attempt. She'd never been good at baseball, no matter how many times Don tried to teach her the mechanics of the sport when they were at Quantico a decade before.

The front door to the laundromat squeaked open, making Terry alert as another person's presence was felt in the room. It didn't feel like the presence of a stranger, which automatically made Terry curious. She stood with socks in hand and turned around.

"Don?" Terry's mouth dropped open at the sight of her partner standing in the doorway.

"Terry?" Don's expression mirrored her own perfectly. "What are you doing here?"

"Laundry," Terry said, the 'duh' tone evident in her voice as she smirked.

"Any particular reason why you chose this place?" Don asked, setting his rather full duffel bag on top of a washing machine.

Terry shrugged. "I usually do my laundry here. It's always much quieter than the one closer to my place. And what about you? Why don't you just take your stuff to Charlie's?"

"I just didn't feel like it tonight," Don said. He felt Terry's eyes boring into him, and decided not to keep anything hidden. "Dad's still pissed at me for not calling or popping in more than twice in the past three weeks."

"Well, help yourself to any spare machines," Terry said, tossing the socks into the dryer and shutting it. She dug quarters out of her pocket, popped them into the slot, and started the dryer.

For the next few minutes, the pair worked in silence as Don loaded clothes into washing machines that Terry moved her clothes out of as they finished the wash cycle. Terry mouthed the words to songs as they played on the speakers, and Don watched her out of the corner of his eye with great interest. It had been quite a while since he'd seen Terry just kick back and do anything other than work. Actually, it had been quite a while since _he'd _done that as well.

A loud rumbling noise startled them both. Don looked over at Terry, who ducked her head and blushed deeply. "Terr," Don moved quickly towards her, "have you eaten at all today?"

"Yogurt at breakfast and apple at lunch," Terry said quietly. "Haven't had time for anything else."

Don shook his head, pulling out his cell phone. "We'll have to change that," he said, dialing a number from memory and moving away as he put the phone up to his ear.

Terry watched curiously as Don conversed with whoever was on the other end of the phone line. He would talk quickly, pause for a moment, and then speak again, occasionally checking his watch. By the time Don was finished, Terry was perched on top of an empty washing machine, leafing through a case file and making notes on a legal pad beside her.

"Hold on a moment," Don hurried over to Terry and plucked the pen from her hand.

"Don!" Terry protested, trying to grab the pen back while still staying balanced on top of the machine.

"You, Miss Lake, are going to have a work-free evening tonight," Don ordered, taking the file and legal pad as well. He tucked them both into his duffel bag and then hopped up onto the washing machine beside Terry. "I think we both need a break, Terry. We need to spend the evening at Dad and Charlie's tomorrow night and just unwind."

"Can't I just finish that last little--"

"Look Workaholic Woman," Don interrupted, mock glaring down at the short woman seated beside him. "I am bigger than you."

"I can throw you over my shoulder," Terry retorted. "I know you have scars."

"Do I ever," Don muttered. "The point is, Terr, that I'm bigger and older. Plus, I have Dad and Charlie on my side. You'll never win."

"Fine, I give," Terry's shoulders slumped.

Don felt his heart break. He hated it whenever Terry looked defeated and lost her spunk. It just wasn't right. "Terry, it's okay," he reached over and pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders. "You can start working again tomorrow morning."

"It's not that, Don," Terry sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're right, and I'm wrong."

"What?" Don was confused.

"I can't remember the last time I actually talked to my Mom or my sister," Terry said quietly. "I've been ignoring everything that's not work related for so long that I'm sure they think I'm dead by now."

"Call your mom," Don urged.

Terry shook her head. "I think I'll do it when I get home so my bawling out isn't witnessed by other people. It's just easier for me."

"As long as you're sure," Don said warily, rubbing Terry's upper arm with his thumb. He leaned his head down to rest on top of hers. "I've only seen Charlie at the office a few times during the past three weeks, and I haven't spoken to Dad at all. The only reason he knows I'm still alive is because Charlie will have told him to keep him from barging into the office to get me."

Terry giggled at the easily concocted mental image of Don being dragged off by his father's hand on his ear. "At least he sent those lunches with Charlie every few days."

"The only real food I've eaten," Don said.

The beep of a car horn interrupted them, and Don disengaged himself from Terry before hopping down off of the machine. "Don? Where are you going?" Terry asked, watching Don hurry towards the door. Her mouth dropped open once again as she noticed the large neon pizza perched on top of the car Don was currently waiting beside. The driver of said car handed Don a large pizza box, and Don in turn handed the driver some money. He balanced two plastic bottles of what seemed to be Coke on top of the pizza box and made his way back inside the laundromat.

"Dinner is served," Don announced, depositing the food and drinks on the machine he and Terry had been seated on.

"Pizza in a laundromat," Terry murmured, lifting the lid to the pizza box and noticing that it was pepperoni, just as it had been ten years before.

The two ate in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the radio and the relaxing sounds of the laundromat. Terry kept sneaking sidelong glances at Don, wondering exactly where he was going with the reenactment of their very first date, or if it meant anything at all. He was such a hard person to read, even for someone who had been trained to do exactly that and had known him for an entire decade.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of an Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong tune from the early nineties filled the room. This particular song sounded louder than the rest, for some reason. Terry nearly dropped her pizza as she realized that this was the exact same song that had been playing ten years ago when she and Don were having their pizza date at a laundromat.

"Terry?" Don's voice cracked through her thoughts. Terry shook her head and noticed that Don was now standing in front of her, looking at her expectantly. "Would you like to dance?"

All Terry could do was nod as she set down her half-eaten slice of pizza and placed her hand in Don's proffered one. He pulled her off of the washing machine and into his arms, immediately swaying back and forth in time to the jazz tune.

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"_

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

Terry felt herself quickly relaxing against Don, pillowing her head on his chest at the same time as he pulled her even closer. She sighed happily, letting the only things on her mind be the beautiful song and the wonderful feeling of being surrounded by all things Don.

_Say "Nighty-night" and kiss me_

_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me_

_While I'm alone and blue as can be_

_D__ream a little dream of me_

Don relished in the feeling of having Terry Lake in his arms once again. It had been far too long since the last time. He didn't want Terry to know, but he'd asked the pizza delivery man to call the radio station that was playing over the speakers and request that Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald's Dream A Little Dream Of Me be played as soon as possible. He'd even tipped the guy an extra twenty bucks to do it.

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_

_Oh how you linger on_

_Still craving your kiss_

_H__ow you crave my kiss_

_Now I'm longin' to linger till dawn dear_

_Just saying this_

_Give me a little kiss_

Both just remembered what had happened all those years ago as soon as these lines had been sung. Don looked down just as Terry looked up, and he captured her lips with his. The only thing either of them could hear was the remainder of the song playing.

_Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you_

_Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_

_But in your dreams, whatever they be_

_Dream a little dream of me_

_Stars fading but I linger on dear_

_Still craving your kiss_

_Yeah, I'm longing to linger till dawn dear_

_Just saying this, yes_

_Sweet dreams_

_Dreamin'_

_Till sunbeams find you_

_Keep dreaming_

_Leave your worries far behind you_

_Gotta keep dreamin'_

_But in your dreams, whatever they be_

_You gotta make me a promise_

_Promise to me you'll dream_

_Dream a little dream of me._

* * *

I just decided to end it there because, well, it's half past one in the morning and I'm kinda tired. I really like it, and I hope you guys do too.

One last thing before I head off to bed:

Cora, if you're reading, **UPDATE!**


End file.
